


10 Minutes

by TurnUps



Category: IT (2017) RPF, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cuddling, Filler, Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Pining, Rated T for language, Relationship Only Implied, Snuggling, Spoilers for It Chapter 2, basically speaking in code about the whole situation, but here's my contribution, i feel like everyone is writing fics like this atm, like longer touches, playfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnUps/pseuds/TurnUps
Summary: Eddie watched a trail of ants run across the floor, carrying crumbs of chips that they'd been snacking on for the last month and a half down here. They glinted in the afternoon light like walking jewels. It was stuffy down here - the heat got trapped and it stank of wood - wood that was probably rot-ting. But it was ten times better to be in a hammock underground that could collapse at any time than on the beach. Richie was the difference.*Set between the first battle at Neibolt house and the second. Eddie sneaks away from the pharmacy to the clubhouse, Richie is hogging the hammock. They attempt to share their fears and, of course, get to the bottom of the ten minute in the hammock rule.MINOR SPOILERS FOR IT CHAPTER TWO





	10 Minutes

10 Minutes

His mom thought he was at the pharmacy. It was the only place he was allowed to go by himself now, and the emphasis was ‘by himself.’ No Losers Club. They were the reason Eddie had broken his arm.

They were the reason. His mom had said.

He kicked through a decade’s worth of fallen leaves and tried to make himself believe that it was their fault. It had to be their fault, because his mother had said so. She was right – she had to be right, because if the adults weren’t right, then who was?

But Eddie knew a different right. He knew that he had chosen to follow Bill. He had chosen to step into the house – he hadn’t _wanted _to, but he had chosen to do it, because the adults hadn’t chosen to do anything. The adults didn’t know the reason children were disappearing, and if they didn’t know the reason, then what else didn’t they know?

Even worse – he thought, pulling open the hatch with his good arm – did they know the reason and choose not to do anything anyway?

It was an effort to get down the ladder with one arm in a cast and even trickier to keep the cast away from the dirt and wood and, to be honest, even the ladder was starting to get rusty. The dirt and the splinters and the rust were bad enough on his own, but if his mom saw any of it on his cast, she’d know that he was sneaking off.

But he managed it, half-stumbling down the square of golden sunlight that the hatch had created. He took a breath, trying to silence his mom’s voice in his mind. Germs – viruses – illnesses – everywhere down here. It was easy to push those thoughts aside when he was with the others. As soon as he was alone –

But he wasn’t alone. He realised that when he turned around and saw the hammock swaying slightly, as if there was a breeze all the way down here. His stomach dropped and he felt sick in the back of his throat.

Then his eyes adjusted to the shadows and he saw Richie’s huge glasses over a battered comic book. He wasn’t surprised as he looked over at Eddie, cradling his cast against his body and waiting for his heart to stop racing in his mouth.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Richie asked, in so very a Richie way that it settled Eddie’s stomach immediately. It was_ Richie_. Richie and not – not_ it_.

“You know what the fuck happened to me,” Eddie said. He scuffed the dirt with the bottom of his sneaker. “A fucking clown broke my arm is what happened to me.”

“I set it back, didn’t I?” Richie flicked a page of his comic. He wasn’t looking Eddie in the eye.

“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for breaking my arm even more with your bare hands that were covered in mud and – and greywater and clown blood – I mean, who knows what kind of diseases that thing was carrying.”

“That things a –“ Richie hesitated for a moment. They both did. They still had no idea what _it _even was. “A – monster – if it did have any diseases, it wouldn’t effect humans.”

“Have you ever seen _The Thing_? _Lost Boys_? _American Werewolf in London?_” Eddie was at the post of the hammock now, pointing at the poster on the wall and waiting for Richie to make room for him. If anything, Richie spread himself out even further when he saw Eddie approach.

“I didn’t realise lycanthropy was _real_.” Richie rolled dark eyes and flicked another page over.

“Shapeshifting clown monsters aren’t supposed to be real either,” Eddie said. “So if I’ve picked up some kind of – of rabid clown disease, just know that you’ll be the first one I come for.”

“You’ll have to come for your mom too.”

“What?”

“You know, seeing as we’ll be in bed together.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie kicked the leg Richie was dangling out of the hammock, toppling him off of his balance. It took Richie a few moments of wind milling his arms and tilting the hammock at a dangerous angle for him to recover. “Have you been in there more than ten minutes?”

Richie blinked at him. “There’s no one else here.”

“So?”

“So? You want me to sit in it ten minutes then get up and look around and realise there's no one else fucking here so I can have another turn?”

“Well at least move the dick over and let me in.” Eddie said, clambering into the hammock. He sat on top of Richie’s feet, trying to keep his cast out of the tangle of limbs. He accidentally kicked Richie in the stomach, and Richie’s foot went into his crotch – both movements causing the hammock to nearly capsize.

It swung dangerously back and forth as they settled themselves around each other – Eddie practically sat in Richie’s lap, his feet just under Richie’s shoulders and Richie’s legs cradling him. Comfortable – this was comfortable and Eddie had missed this. He had missed his friends. They were a break from being scared about his cast, being scared about Byers, being scared of _it _– just being _scared_.

“You sure?” Richie said.

“Yeah, why?” His cast was heavy in his lap. This was real, he had to remind himself. This had to be real, because if this dissolved into a nightmare he wasn’t sure he had the strength to run away this time.

Richie shrugged. He’d opened his comic so that it was spread across Eddie’s ankles and his chin was practically resting on his chest as he looked over at him.

“Because I’m – I’m a loser.”

It was obvious that sentence had taken a sharp U-turn midway through. 

Eddie nudged Richie's shoulder with his foot. "What happened to _you_?"

There was a pause.

"Byers."

Eddie's foot nudged Richie's shoulder again. "Fucking Byers."

Richie shrugged Eddie's foot off of him.

"Fucking clown," he muttered, swinging one foot to get the hammock swaying again.

It was Eddie's turn to pause. Dirt trickled down from the ceiling. He could hear something on top of the base - a small animal like a squirrel chattering around. There were birds too - making calls that sounded fake. More like the sound effect in a movie than real life.

"You've seen it too?" Eddie whispered. He watched dust swirl in the shaft of sunlight.

"Yeah." Richie adjusted his glasses, looking serious. Eddie really should have seen it coming. "Looked like your mom."

"Fuck off." It was a reflex at this point. Eddie kicked Richie's shoulder. Richie's laughter stopped short as he kept talking. "It actually was, this time, okay? It - it was under the drug store and there was this leper and it was going to infect her, okay?"

"Okay." Richie's legs twitched under Eddie. As if he was thinking about moving, but decided against it. "Are you meant to be there now?"

"Meant to be home. Was hoping there'd be more of us down here." Eddie ran his thumb over the plain, white cast. Yeah, he didn’t want to get It dirty, but he also wanted to see certain names on there. He kept staring at the white space, wondering where the losers clubs names would go. How everyone's handwriting would look.

"Am I not enough for you?" Richie said, and Eddie thought that he leant against his outstretched leg.

"Shut up." He nudged him again, a little too hard so that he knocked Richie's thick glasses askew and Richie had to hold Eddie's ankle so that he didn't topple out of the hammock.

He kept his hand there as it kept swaying. And Eddie found he didn't mind. Richie's hand was warm and he had missed human contact. Human contact with someone other than his mom was good - it made him feel like he was real. He was real and a person and that was /good/.

"Do you wanna finally get some signatures on that bad boy?" Richie nodded at Eddie's cast, and his fingers fell away.

"I don't-"

"Want to get it dirty?"

"Don't think my mom would be happy if she knew I was hanging out with you."

It made Richie pause. He swallowed. "Right."

"I mean, she thinks that we were just messing around in the Neibolt house. Not losing a fight to a clown."

That brought a small smile back on Richie's face.

"Get the clown to sign it," Richie said.

"Fuck that." He let his foot drop slightly, chasing after Richie's hand without making it look like he was. "What'd you see? When – when _It _came this time?"

Richie shuffled slightly, but it made the whole hammock sway. "Why do want to know?"

"Because we're friends," Eddie said. "Because I told you about the leper - and - and I left her - I left her there."

For some reason crying in front of Richie Tozier felt like the last straw - after everything, that just seemed too much. Instead he sniffed and swallowed down the lump in his throat and kept the hammock swaying with the leg that wasn't after Richie's warm hand.

"It wasn't her, Eds." This was the Richie he wasn't so familiar with, the Richie that was serious and comforting and not desperately trying to annoy Eddie at any cost. "As soon as you helped, she would have turned into some batshit monster or something."

Eddie didn't answer. He watched a trail of ants run across the floor, carrying crumbs of chips that they'd been snacking on for the last month and a half down here. They glinted in the afternoon light like walking jewels. It was stuffy down here - the heat got trapped and it stank of wood - wood that was probably rotting. But it was ten times better to be in a hammock underground that could collapse at any time than on the beach. Richie was the difference.

Mainly because Richie was right. All of that would have turned into a nightmare eventually. It helped ease the shame and guilt that was running through him like a fever. He had left his mom.

But it wasn't really his mom. As soon as he would have gotten her out, she would have turned on him. Richie was right and he knew it. Would it have been worse to see his mom turn into a monster.

He hoped so.

"I'd rather that than - than the fucking Paul Bunyan statue chasing after me."

Eddie glanced up then. Richie was dog eating a page of his comic over and over.

"Wait, what?"

"That's what happened. The dumb fucking statue by the bandstand."

"Shit," Eddie said. "Wait, you're scared of that stupid thing?"

"Of course not, numb nuts," Richie snapped, and almost tore the corner off the comic. He smoothed it out. "The clown must have heard what Byers said - It was using what he said."

"Well what did he say?" Eddie said. Richie didn't respond. He was focused on the comic. Eddie nudged him with his foot. Then nudged him again. Then nudged him again.

"I don't want to talk about it, Eddie."

"Why not?" Eddie nudged him again. And again. And again.

Until Richie was pushing Eddie's leg away and sitting upright so fast that the hammock swayed like a small boat on the stormy sea.

"Because you'd never be able to hang out again!" He snapped. Eddie let the hammock swing, staring up at Richie. He was rarely angry - rarely genuinely, outwardly distressed. That was what scared him. If Richie was scared then something was very, very wrong. "You'd say that I have-"

"Richie, I already know you have syphilis." Eddie spoke in a small voice. He was trying to be funny and he didn't think it was working, because Richie was the funny one, not him - and what was Richie about to say and, fuck, what if he was right.

He wasn't right. He couldn't be right. Eddie wouldn't let him be right.

"More like AIDS."

That made Eddie sit up. The hammock had stopped rocking. He stared at Richie and Richie stared back, his chest hitching as he breathed. His knee twitched under Eddie and then he pulled it out of the hammock, letting it dangle out of the side. As if Eddie’s touch burnt him.

His heart was attempting to sprint a marathon and he didn’t quite know why. Or rather, he could guess why – he could guess a million reasons why, but they were much scarier than anything that had happened to them in the last two months. They were reasons he absolutely couldn’t think about.

And, yet here Richie was, saying what Eddie thought he was saying – and Richie genuinely believed that Eddie wouldn’t want to be around him because of it. That chased the reasons away like lemmings off of a cliff. Richie was diving off of that cliff because it was instinct, and he opened his mouth to explain –

_Beep. Beep._

The timer on his watch was going off. Cutting across the lazy afternoon with an incessant, robotic voice.

He swore, and switched it off, suddenly finding it difficult to make the device listen to him. It felt as though it was going off forever and when it was finally silent, the quiet was too loud. It rang in Eddie’s ears.

“Well, you’ve definitely been in this thing more than ten fucking minutes,” he said.

“There’s literally no one else here.”

“I’m here, and I shared this stinking thing with you for ten minutes.”

Richie folded his arms and the comic fluttered to the ground. “It’s a bullshit rule.”

“It’s my turn.” Eddie pushed at Richie’s shoulders, the movement making the hammock swing. He tried to shove Richie out of the hammock as it tilted. But Richie was pushing back against him – he had a firm grip on Eddie’s wrists and for a moment, Eddie thought he was going to fall straight into the floor. They struggled, their legs tangled in each other as the hammock swung so strongly that the hooks it was set into started to creak.

They wrestled, until Eddie was very nearly falling out of the thing. He realised that he was still only upright because he was holding onto Richie for life. He cried out as he felt the fabric slip out from under him.

That was when Richie caught his arms and pulled him back in. Suddenly he was looking up at an out of breath Richie – his glasses askew and his hair messy from the fight. He smiled slightly.

Then he loosened his grip and went to sit back up. To quickly – as though he had seen something on Eddie’s face that he scared him. Maybe he had – his mind was wheeling now that the had stopped moving.

Eddie acted on impulse, grabbing Richie’s hands and squeezing them, even though he was still out of breath and hadn’t thought about what he was going to say.

“Rich-“ Eddie swallowed. He could feel his heart in every part of his body.

“Your mom will be getting worried,” Richie said. His fingers grazed Eddie’s wrists as he pulled his arms away.

Eddie shrugged. “Fuck it.” She was always worried. He pushed himself up and away from the canvas. Then, with hands that felt like they were shaking, he straightened Richie’s glasses, his fingers lingering. “She didn’t save me from a clown and she’s not – she’s not my best friend.”

“Your best friend?” Richie echoed.

It was hard to breathe. It was really hard to breathe, and it was probably his asthma, he wanted it to be his asthma, but it wasn’t the moment to reach for his pump.

“Yeah, my best friend.”

Richie was smiling at him – and then suddenly his arms were around Eddie’s neck and his whole weight hit him. He fell back, setting the hammock swinging gently. After a moment, he hugged Richie back. They were close – they had always been close, but hugging had never been their thing. They sat all over each other, but it was only now that Eddie was realising that they didn’t actually _hug _a lot.

“Even if you’ve given me rabid clown disease, you’ll be my best friend,” Eddie murmured. He stretched out the fingers half-hidden in his cast and imagined Richie’s handwriting on it. He felt warm, but it was hot down here, because it was Summer – it was still Summer. It was still hot and that was why he felt so warm.

“Well – your mom passed on the syph to _me_, so-“

“Fuck _off_, Richie!”

But he was giggling. And Richie was laughing too – his chest bumped against Richie’s and he could feel his breath against the shell of his ear. This was good. They should hug more, Eddie decided. They should hug more because he would be able to face those reasons he didn’t want to admit right now. He’d be able to explain to Richie one day.

“Thanks, Eds.” Richie muttered.

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment. The sun was warm and the hammock was swinging like there was a breeze all the way down here and he had been right earlier – the clubhouse was better than any beach. This was safe. The feeling of being safe – and that was something that none of this Summer had. It was because of that, that the clubhouse felt like heaven.

And the difference was Richie.

So he replied the only thing that he could – until he came to terms with all of the reasons why his heart was racing.

“Losers stick together.”

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): I have like three fics that I really need to update because it's getting close to a month since I last did - BUT - I just got done with a really intensive show and saw It chapter 2 as a reward and well deserved break. The first one has gotten to be one of my favourite movies without me even realising it, so I was VERY excited about the second one. I'm literally that meme of unfollow me now, this is going to be the only thing I talk about. I just?? Love these movies?? And these kids?? And I was flicking through the book today because I want to read it but can't sit still long enough to START reading it.  
But, yeah, needless to say I had this idea as soon as I left the theatre and most of it is me trying to get these kids to stay on one conversation. I wrote most of it on the train, so if any of it looks funny, that'll be why.  
Yeah, I just had some emotions, and they manifested themselves into a oneshot. (I had a couple of ideas, but I don't know if I'll come back to them...maybe if I get to see it in theatres again.)  
ANYWAY, thank you very much for reading and thank you in advance for leaving kudos/comments/etc. I hope you enjoy! x


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